


Secret Desires

by tender_is_the_ghost



Series: Travis and Klarissa [1]
Category: Gossip (2000), Norman Reedus - Fandom, Travis - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Artists, Doggy Style, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Inspiration, Kissing, POV Second Person, Painting, Portrait, Sex, Sexual Content, Smut, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering, creative block
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 01:25:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1286014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tender_is_the_ghost/pseuds/tender_is_the_ghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Travis has a creative block and Klarissa finds a way to free him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret Desires

 

You open the door to Travis' loft with the key he gave you and call his name. There's no reply which is strange as he was supposed to be home and the place looks deserted. You stand there for a minute, debating whether to leave or not, as cold rainwater drips from your hair down inside the back of your jacket. You shake your head, sending droplets of water cascading around you and decide to at least dry off a bit and wait out the rain before you leave again. Maybe Travis has just gone out to get smokes, forgetting you were coming over, and he'll be back soon.

You head into the apartment, smiling at the eclectic mix of furnishings and art decorating the place. You've only met Travis' roommates a few times but they seem pretty cool and they've made you welcome here. The door to his room is closed and, when you open it, you're surprised to find him lying on his bed, one arm thrown over his eyes. He's wearing his paint crusted coveralls, pulled down to the waist, with an equally paint stained t-shirt on top. His feet are bare and you can tell by the paint smudges on the top of them that he's been creating wildly again with no regard for himself or his surroundings.

Your heart flips as he lowers his arm, blinking his sleep deprived eyes, as he tries to focus on you. He smiles his crooked grin at you as he rolls into a sitting position and fumbles on the bedside table for a cigarette.

"You're all wet," he observes, talking around his cigarette and waving a finger at you as he searches for his lighter.

"No shit!" you reply, walking into his bathroom to get a towel.

You take off your soaking jacket and hang it up, standing in the doorway to towel your hair. You're aware of Travis' intense gaze watching you from the bed. Satisfied your hair isn't going to drip anymore, you hang the towel back up, running your fingers through your damp locks to loosen any tangles.

"So, how's the project going?" you ask him.

His face darkens, brow creasing as he scowls, looking down at his feet. Your heart sinks a little. You know he's been struggling with whatever he's working on and you miss your happy-go-lucky Travis, with his nervous laugh and the way he blushes when he stumbles over his words. It took a long time for him to let you into his world and, while you've seen his mood swing when he's creating, you've never seen him in such a dark place before.

"Can I see it?"

You regret the words as soon as you say them

"See it?!" he spits, stubbing out his half-finished smoke in a shower of sparks. "See it? It's a fucking mess, Klar, why would I ever want you to see it?"

"I just thought..."

"You thought what? Huh? You thought fucking what? You know... maybe you should see it, see what a failure I really am."

He jumps up, grabbing your wrist and you're so shocked at the change in your usually mellow boyfriend that you don't resist as he pulls you out of his room and down the hall to his studio. He angrily throws open the door and thrusts you inside, steering you to stand in front of his easel. He flicks on the light above it, making a small bright circle in the darkened room then steps back. As your eyes adjust, you stare at the canvas in front of you, trying to comprehend what you're seeing. Your own likeness stares back at you, but a perfect you, seen through someone else's eyes. Your features have been captured to perfection and you can almost feel the love in every brush stroke that makes up your face. You turn to him with tears in your eyes.

"Trav... I... it's..." your brain can't form coherent sentences.

"Yeah, it's hideous I know. I'm so sorry, Klar, I wanted it to be perfect for you. But it's just all wrong and I don't know how to fix it."

The anger seems to dissipate out of him and his shoulders slump as he chews nervously on his thumb, avoiding your eyes. His face makes your heart ache and you step up to him, slipping your hands around his waist and pulling his body to yours. He resists you for a second then brings his arms up to cross behind your neck, resting his forehead down against yours.

"Travis, it's beautiful," you whisper.

He sighs deeply.

"But, I can't finish it. I.. I don't know how to complete it and it's driving me crazy. Something's blocking me and I just can't get it out of my stupid head."

"Baby, you need to relax. Stop trying to force it and just let it come. You'll get there... you always do."

You take his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. His eyes have dark circles under them and there's a short growth of stubble covering his chin. You rub the pads of your thumbs lightly over his eyebrows and then down his cheeks to cup under his chin. He reaches up, taking your right hand in his and softly kisses your palm. His touch sends shivers down your spine and a small gasp escapes your lips. He looks at you for a moment and then suddenly he's kissing you, his tongue immediately demanding entry to your mouth and, when you part your lips, it darts in to press hotly against yours. You can taste the tobacco on his breath mixed with a faint taste of whiskey as his tongue devours you, sliding against yours, fighting for dominance. His kiss is far more intense than any you've shared before and you moan into his mouth, your body pressing against him as his hands slide around your back to rest on your ass. He squeezes your butt cheeks firmly, pushing you tighter against him, where you can feel his growing erection, firm along your thigh.

You reach a hand down to unzip his coveralls, pushing them down over his bare ass, smiling inside at the fact that he never wears underwear. Now it's his turn to gasp into your mouth as your soft hand finds his cock and you grip it tightly, starting a slow stroke up and down. He lets you work at him for a minute then pulls away from you, forcing you to let go. He pulls his t-shirt over his head and steps out of his pants until he's standing completely naked before you, paint streaked on his arms and neck, his cock standing hard against his stomach.

"Strip," he demands, his voice low and dark.

You don't hesitate, hands fumbling to pull your damp t-shirt over your head and undo your jeans all at the same time, toeing off your shoes as you pull off your jeans. He stops you before you can remove your underwear, his hands pulling you back to him, skin rough where it touches yours. His mouth hungrily finds yours again, teeth clashing as he licks and nips at your lips, his tongue sliding with yours. His fingers expertly flick open your bra and he pulls it off you, dipping his head to run his tongue across you breast, sucking at your nipple until it's hard and you're gasping with pleasure. He bites and licks his way back up your neck, his breath hot on your skin, one hand still working at your breast as the other glides down over your abdomen and into the top of your panties. His fingers part your lips and rub roughly against your clit making you writhe against his hand. His fingers slip deep into your wetness and he scissors them causing you to moan louder and grab at his hand with yours.

He pulls out, gripping your panties and practically ripping them from your body. His sudden intensity excites you. He's always been such a gentle, giving lover, sometimes almost shy to make the first move, but something tonight has changed in him and you can feel it in the way he's touching your body, taking control of what he wants. Once you're naked in front of him, he grabs your hips, spinning you to face away from him and bends you against his work table with such force that brushes and empty paint cans clatter to the floor. He kicks your ankles apart, his hand tangling almost painfully in your hair. His other hand finds its way underneath you to rub against you until you're pushing back against his hand desperate for his touch.

Suddenly he slides his hand away and grasps at your butt cheek instead, squeezing it in his fingers before giving it a not too gentle slap, making you gasp out loud. A sound almost like a low whine comes from behind you and before you know it, he smacks your ass again, harder this time. The sensation takes your breath away but you arch back towards him and he does it again and again as your moans get louder with each hit.

"Oh.. you like that, huh?"

Smack!

"I knew you would."

Smack!

"You're a filthy girl, Klar, and I fucking love it!"

With a final slap to your ass, hard enough to make you let out a small scream, he roughly grips your hips and thrusts into you, pushing himself to your limit. He holds himself still for a moment and you squeeze your walls around him, enjoying the whimper this brings from his throat, before he draws back, sliding through your wetness only to thrust forward again. He increases his pace, slamming into you without mercy and you clutch at the table, unable to form words as he grunts behind you biting down on the back of your neck until you feel your climax building and you yell his name, begging him not to stop. He pushes harder and faster for a minute, you can feel his sweat dripping against your own slick skin and then you're coming, screaming loud and pushing back against him as he explodes into you, fingers biting into your skin. Your bodies shake together and his weight presses against you as he wraps his arms around your waist to hold you while you try to catch your breath.

He turns you in his arms, brushing the damp hair from your face and kisses you with such tenderness you wonder who the hell just fucked you! He breaks the kiss, blue eyes sparkling as he grins at you for a moment before picking you up in his arms and carrying you back to the bedroom. He lays you down and wraps around you, softly stroking your hair and caressing your skin, whispering nonsense words of love to you until you feel your eyes start to close.

When you awake, you stretch languidly, automatically reaching for his hand to pull it around you but you find only empty space. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you pull on one of his old plaid shirts, inhaling his scent and smiling, and make your way down the hall to his studio, thinking all the while about the previous night. You don't know what possessed him but you're glad it did! You find him sitting back in front of his easel and he pulls you into his arms, burying his face against your neck as you survey your finished portrait. The subtle changes he's made make it even more stunning and you fall even more in love with him.

"Oh Travis, its perfect."

He mumbles against your neck, pulling you down to sit against his lap and you give an involuntary 'ouch' as your tender rear brushes against the material of his coveralls.

"Although, next time you have an artistic block, remind me to bring lotion for the after effects!"


End file.
